Apocalypse NCIS
by Theodore Hawkwood
Summary: When a US Navy Patrol Boat washes up on the banks of of the Anacostia River, a tributary of the Potomac, the NCIS Team stumbles upon the aftermath of a Vietnam War black operation. Posted originally on the NCIS Fanfiction Addiction. This takes place just before the episode The Curse.
1. Apocalypse NCIS

Apocalypse NCIS

Disclaimer: I do not own either the TV show NCIS or the film Apocalypse Now.

Summary: When a US Navy Patrol Boat washes up on the banks of the Anacostia River, a tributary of the Potomac, the NCIS Team stumbles upon the aftermath of a Vietnam War black operation.

* * *

_"This is the end. Beautiful friend. This is the end, my only friend, the end. Of our elaborate plans, the end. Of everything that stands, the end. No safety or surprise, the end. I'll never look into your eyes...again. Can you picture what will be, so limitless and free. Desperately in need of some stranger's hand. In a desperate land. Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain...and all the children are insane..."_ **- The Doors.**

_"I took the mission, what the hell else was I gonna do?"_** - Captain Benjamin Willard, Military Assistance Command, Vietnam - Studies and Observation Group (MACV-SOG).**

* * *

21 October 2003, 0845  
Anacostia River, Vicinity of Bladensburg Waterfont Park  
District of Columbia, United States

"Navy PBR." Gibbs said as he identified the grounded boat.

"I thought they retired those things after Vietnam." DiNozzo remarked as he followed Gibbs, slightly behind and to the left of his boss.

"I think I've had my quota of boats for the month." Kate quipped as she walked towards the boat, it's bow crushed inward from impact against the high bank.

A Maryland State Trooper approached Gibbs just then, a slightly portly fellow about five or six years older than Gibbs. "Damndest thing, this big green boat comes speeding by one of my river patrol boats, totally out of control and bumps over the sandbar and right into the embankment."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"That's why we called you in. Big green boat sounds like a Navy type thing to me." the State Trooper said, "And when we got a closer look at it we found out the thing's got enough weaponry aboard it to seize a small island. Definitely a military boat."

Indeed the vessel was olive green, its bow largely smashed into the rocky embankment. Clearly the waterjet propelled craft wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"Crewmembers?" Gibbs replied.

"Just two." the State Trooper said, "The EMTs are over there treating them."

He indicated the beach nearby where two men lay on their backs as EMTs had begun to start examining them.

"DiNozzo, Kate, go check on the two casualties. McGee, get the statements from the river patrol guys." Gibbs began.

"Where are you going?" DiNozzo asked.

"I'm going to have a look at the boat." Gibbs replied and climbed aboard the wrecked vessel.

The thing Kate and DiNozzo noticed straightaway was the fact that both men were in some form of military uniform. One with longish blonde hair, a skinny fellow almost six feet tall at 5'11, wore olive green fatigues and black steel toed boots with a red and yellow patch on the left shoulder. His nametape read Johnson and his service read U.S. Navy.

The other one wore green and black tiger stripe camouflage fatigues. He was around 5'7", shorter by four inches, with a similarly lean build to the first one and brown hair. Lying beside him, between him and Johnson, was an M16A1 rifle, with a 20 round magazine still in it. His nametape read Willard and his service read U.S. Army.

Both sported days worth of beard growth, their uniforms stained with grime, sweat, and not an inconsiderable amount of mud. Kate noted that as she knelt by the one called Willard and reached inside his shirt.

"Isn't that assault?" DiNozzo remarked.

"I'm looking for dogtags." Kate replied, "We might get lucky…"

"Walked into that one." DiNozzo quipped.

"Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, we might find a full name and social for each of these guys. Go check the other guy." Kate replied, then took out her PDA to note the first man.

She took down the information onto her PDA: Willard, Benjamin L.

"Hey, Kate, tell me if I'm wrong," DiNozzo began as he reached inside Johnson's shirt, "But if I'm not mistaken uniforms like this haven't been issued to the military in almost thirty years."

"Find any dogtags?" Kate asked.

"Yeah." Tony replied.

"Ok, read off the name." Kate asked.

"Johnson, Lance B." Tony recited.

Once she took down the information of the two men Kate donned her latex gloves and reached over for the M16A1 rifle, lying behind her. She held it by the pistol grip in one hand and hit the magazine release with her other hand.

DiNozzo turned away from Johnson and he caught the 20 round magazine before it hit the sand.

"Mostly empty." DiNozzo remarked.

"Handguards and barrel are hot. The rifle's been fired recently." Kate remarked as she ejected the chambered round and looked down the chamber of the M16 before placing it on safe.

"Gibbs," Kate began, holding the rifle in her hands, muzzle pointed towards the ground, "This weapon's been fired. Recently."

Gibbs, who had been standing by one of the M60s on the boat's starboard side, the side closest to where the EMTs were examining the two unconscious men. "So has this one."

"Come up here." Gibbs directed.

Kate looked up, the boat was pretty high.

"I could give you a boost." Tony remarked.

Kate rolled her eyes, and slung the rifle across her back before reaching up and grabbing the rails, pulling herself up and and attempting to hook her right leg around a rail, but missing.

She felt a hand at the bottom of her foot and Tony said, "Pull up and I'll push you up there. I told you I'd give you a boost."

Kate shot him a dirty look but pulled and Tony pushed the bottom of her foot with both of his hands, thus giving her the necessary boost to get into the boat.

"Want me up there too, boss?" DiNozzo asked from the bank.

"No, go help McGee get the statements from the Maryland River Patrol guys." Gibbs called back down before turning towards Kate.

"What does this look like to you?" Gibbs asked.

Kate looked around the deck of the boat. There were casings and machinegun belt links all over the deck, 7.62mm from the M60s, 5.56mm from the crew's M16s, even .50 caliber casings from the boat's larger guns, even a couple 40mm grenade casings.

"Wherever this boat was, it was last in a battle." Kate replied as she walked from the aft section towards the small, semi-covered pilothouse. She noticed a bloodstain on the deck.

"And they took casualties." Kate added, "Gibbs, doesn't a boat like this typically have a bigger crew than two people?"

"US Navy PBR, usually a crew of four sailors." Gibbs replied.

"PBR?" Kate asked.

"Patrol Boat, River." Gibbs supplied as he rummaged around the console where the steering column was, looking for the radio log.

"Why can't the Navy just say something simple like River Patrol Boat?" Kate mused.

"Who knows. I never was in the Navy, I was in the Marine Corps, remember." Gibbs said with a smirk.

Kate returned the smirk and noticed a surfboard, red and black with a big yellow shield with a diagonal black strip running roughly down it's center below a black horse head beside a pair of waterskis and a strap.

"Looks like these guys were also serious about their recreation on the water." Kate commented.

"So we've got a wrecked Navy patrol boat, a model that has been retired since the late 1990s, two men in Vietnam war era uniforms, Vietnam era weapons. Does this seem out of place to you?" Gibbs began.

Kate shot him a look, "It's obvious it is extremely out of place. I mean how does a Vietnam War era anything wind up on the banks of the Anacostia River?"

"DiNozzo, McGee, how's that interview coming along?" Gibbs called.

"I got the statements boss." McGee said, "But the EMTs want to get the casualties transported."

"Direct them to Walter Reed and go with them." Gibbs began, "DiNozzo, you're with me. And Kate…"

"I know, with the boat, right?" Kate said.

"So did you learn mindreading in the Secret Service?" Gibbs asked.

"No, but within the last month I've accompanied two tow trucks back to the Navy Yard, it seems like this was opportunity number three." Kate replied, with mild annoyance in her voice.

"Before you go, give Abby a call and have her run the names of the two crewmembers we have." Gibbs said.

Kate pulled her phone out and dialed Abby's number before heading over to the tow truck.

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard,  
1100, 21 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

"Abby, any luck with running those socials and names?" Gibbs began as he walked into Abby's lab.

"Depends on what you call luck, Gibbs. I ran the names and socials of the two men Kate called about. But there's something _really_ hinky about all this." Abby said as she took a sip of Caf-Pow, "For starters both these guys have really common first and last names, I mean really common, there are a lot of Willards and Johnsons on the planet, at least in the Western world and..."

"Abby," Gibbs said, patiently, "Get to the point."

"I ran a search for any Lance B. Johnsons in the Navy and any Benjamin L. Willards in the Army." Abby said, "But they didn't return any results for currently serving men. I expanded the search parameters further to the early 80s, the age of the Flock of Seagulls and hair bands, still nothing. So I kept on expanding it then I got hit."

"Which was?" Gibbs began, noticing that Abby was on her second Caf-Pow and it had just turned eleven o'clock according to his watch.

"Well my records search revealed that the only people with those names were in service during the Vietnam War. And more specifically the last known whereabouts on either of these men was at Nha Trang, Vietnam _before_ they were listed as Missing in Action." Abby replied, sipping another Caf-Pow and bringing up both Johnson and Willard's service records, "Now what's really hinky is Willard's service record is largely classified. It mentions service in the 173rd Airborne Brigade from 1965-1966, attending the Special Forces Qualification Course in mid 1966-1967, and then service with Military Assistance Command, Vietnam in the Studies and Observation Group around 1967 and then it seems like he almost disappears from Army records."

Kate walked into the room just then, "The boat is ready for Abby to look it and I think I have hit my tow truck quota for the calendar year."

"But it is a new fiscal year, which is how I define the tow truck quota." Gibbs said with a wry grin.

Kate flashed him an 'if looks could kill' expression before asking, "Are those the results on those names and socials?"

Kate looked over at a monitor that showed the records and official photographs of Gunner's Mate 3rd Class Lance B. Johnson, US Navy and Captain Benjamin L. Willard, US Army.

"Wait, that can't be right." Kate remarked, as she pointed at Johnson's and Willard's records in turn, "those records show them as serving during the Vietnam War. But the two men on that boat looked to be around 19 and 30 respectively."

"They were 19 and 30 in November of 1969." Gibbs remarked.

"Whoa." Kate remarked, pointing at another monitor that had a map centered on Nha Trang, Vietnam displayed, "So you're telling me that those two guys on that boat somehow found themselves ashore thousands of miles and almost thirty-four years into the future from their last known whereabouts?"

"It's looking like that." Gibbs said.

"Ok, putting aside the straight out of a Bemuda Triangle story piece for now, I also noticed something." Kate replied, pointing towards Willard's service record, "Any reason that Willard's record seems to be largely redacted after 1967?"

"I was just getting there." Abby replied, "He joined some organization called MACV-SOG in mid-1967."

"MACV-SOG?" Kate asked.

"Military Assistance Command Vietnam - Studies and Observation Group." Gibbs replied, taking a sip of coffee from the cup he had been carrying, "A highly classified multi-service special operations unit, disbanded in 1972."

"Ok, so that explains the redacted service record, but how those two guys look like they haven't aged a day in thirty-four years is the mystery here as well as what happened to the other people on this mission." Kate replied.

"I'd say its the latter more than the former." Gibbs replied, "The how they got here part is a bit less important."

"This is hinky, though." Abby said, "It's just like the Bermuda Triangle legend where that pilot landed and his watch and read several days in the past but he landed several days in the future."

"Abby, I don't think that there's anything remotely resembling the Bermuda Triangle anywhere in vicinity of the Mekong River." Gibbs replied before his cell phone started to ring.

"Gibbs. Hang on, I'm putting you on speaker."

Gibbs tapped the speakerphone button, "Boss, it's McGee. One of the men is awake. It's Willard."

* * *

Walter Reed Army Medical Center  
1045, 21 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

"Hey probie," DiNozzo asked, "Any change with the two unconscious guys?"

"No." McGee said, "They're still out like lights."

Indeed both Willard and Johnson, clad in hospital gowns were currently lying in hospital beds in the Isolation Ward of Walter Reed Army Medical Center, an isolated wing of the hospital.

Thanks to the plate glass window in the small waiting room McGee and DiNozzo could see the two men each hooked to an EKG, the beeps came steady, just showing two men who were unconscious but under observation.

One member of the team was going to remain with the two men while the others divided their time between research on the PBR and the mission of its crew.

"Hey probie, mind covering for me for a few minutes, I have to use the bathroom." DiNozzo said, standing up from one of the small cloth cushioned chairs in the waiting room.

McGee glanced up just in time to see DiNozzo's line of sight, a pretty blonde nurse was walking past the Isolation Ward waiting room.

"Sure." McGee replied, fairly sure DiNozzo's desire to have McGee cover part of his shift had nothing to do with a desire to use the bathroom at all.

He sighed tiredly and looked through the glass pane that allowed him to get a look at the isolation ward. Right as he was about to turn around and go back into a months old issue of National Geographic Magazine when he saw Willard's eyes open and the man sit bolt upright in bed.

He was on the phone to Gibbs, the article on African Wild Dogs entirely forgotten, "Boss, it's McGee. One of the men is awake."

* * *

_"Did you not assassinate a government tax collector...Quang Tri Province, June 18, 1968?"_** - Colonel G. Lucas, Military Assistance Command, Vietnam.**

_"How many people had I already killed? There were those six that I know about for sure...close enough to blow their last breath in my face."_ **- Captain Benjamin L. Willard, Military Assistance Command, Vietnam - Studies and Observation Group (MACV-SOG).**

* * *

18 June 1968, 1900  
Quang Tri, Quang Tri Province  
Republic of Vietnam

Huynh Dak Ho smiled as he walked from the hotel. Not only was he able to get enough money to his North Vietnamese handler, but he was also able to skim away just enough for another bit of comfortable living. He not only had a wife and three children, but also a mistress to keep happy.

He had no idea that within the hour he was going to die. Huynh had been at his mistresses house, celebrating his good fortune. The money this man was skimming off of taxes wasn't entirely going to the Government of South Vietnam, and not entirely to his mistress or his family.

_That, I don't care about._ Willard thought. _I care that the prick's been giving money and info to the Vietcong. And that Manfredi's team paid the price for it six months ago._

Taking the KaBar knife from its sheath silently from underneath the black civilian shirt he wore, the soft soled tennis shoes he wore making his movements on the largely unpaved street silent.

Running the last few steps, silently moving towards the man he was about to kill. Huynh was lighting up a cigarette as he was walking back towards his home. Shifting the grip on the knife slightly then grabbing Huynh into the nearest alleyway, a hand over the mouth, dragging the smaller, slighter Vietnamese man into the darkness while thrusting the knife into his back. Stabbing in, repeating names with each thrust, "Sergeant First Class Vic Manfredi, Sergeant Dave Shapiro, Specialist Four John Provo. That's for Recon Team Mojave."

Grabbing the knife, then flipping it over, stabbing into the neck, slitting the throat and caratoid arteries, releasing his hand from Huynh's mouth, the smell of the man's tobacco scented breath mixing with the fermented fish sauce that flavored his last meal.

Willard wiped the knife on the inside of his shirt, tucking the knife back into his belt, making his way back to the Quang Tri safe house, the place the CIA maintained for just these sort of black operations.

Opening the door, instead of the CIA Case Officer he had worked with all he saw were eight people. And these were eight people he had killed, at least the eight he knew for certain, close enough to have breathed their last breaths into his face.

At the center stood the gaunt Colonel Walter E. Kurt.. His body covered with the lacerations the machete had caused. The machete that he had wielded, the one he had swung several times to carry out his last mission.

Kurtz uttered his final words, "The horror! The horror!"

* * *

Walter Reed Army Medical Center  
1100, 21 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

Willard sat up in bed, bolt upright, eyes opening, regarding the room. _Room, what the hell? And it looks like a damn hospital ward? What the Hell?_

He looked around the room noticing he was clad in a hospital gown and that he was connected to an EKG. He could hear a similar machine behind another blue curtain. _Lance?_

Willard would utter the first five words he would ever utter in this new century. "Where the hell am I?"

* * *

To Be Continued...


	2. Wakefulness

Wakefulness

Author's Note: I realize that the date they found Willard was a week before the filming of the episode Sub Rosa. But I figured that perhaps McGee was interviewing at NCIS, Washington Navy Yard the week of 21 October 2003.

Warnings: War violence, language.

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard  
1105, 21 October 2003  
Washington D.C.  
United States

"McGee, you and DiNozzo deal with the situation for now, we'll be on our way." Gibbs began, "Abby, see what other information you can find regarding Captain Willard and his time in SOG."

"I can set up a computer search for that, but given a good piece of his file is redacted for the years 1967-1969 where it ends with him being MIA in Cambodia we might need to ask the Director if he can't get us the secret part. I mean it shouldn't be too hard, Vietnam is like ancient history." Abby began.

"I'll take care of Director Morrow," Gibbs began, "See what you can find at your end, but the boat and the testing is your top priority. I suggest trying to look into all the information you can on the crew of PBR _Street Gang_."

"Street Gang?" Abby asked.

"It's the radio callsign of the boat." Gibbs said, handing Abby a green, cloth bound military notebook that was in an evidence bag.

"It's the vessel's logbook." Kate explained, "I don't think there would be too many mission details in there, given the classified nature of Willard's service record, but it can't hurt to look through it."

"We'll send McGee back here to help you out." Gibbs replied.

"I appreciate it, Gibbs, thanks." Abby said as she headed over to the garage where the boat was parked, "And can you tell him to bring me another Caf Pow?"

"Sure." Gibbs said.

As they headed for the elevator Kate turned to Gibbs and remarked, "It's a wonder Abby's heart hasn't exploded. For that matter I'm amaze _your_ heart hasn't exploded, or your kidneys haven't malfunctioned."

"Trade secret, Kate, trade secret." Gibbs remarked as they stepped into the elevator and the door closed.

* * *

Walter Reed Army Hospital  
1105, 21 October 2003  
Washington D.C.  
United States

"Alright boss, I'll do my best." McGee said as he thought, _DiNozzo get your ass over here, now._

McGee headed into the ward, stepping in from behind the curtain.

"Captain Willard?" McGee began, as he approached the gaunt Army officer, "I'm Special Agent Tim McGee, NCIS."

Willard regarded him with greyish blue eyes, "NCIS? What the hell is that?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service." McGee replied.

"What are the charges?" Willard thought. _Is this guy about to arrest me? Funny, I succeed in my mission and then they go and arrest **me** for murder._

"There aren't any charges." McGee said, genuinely puzzled by Willard's reaction.

"Ok, but what the hell is NCIS, whatever that is, doing with us? Where is Petty Officer Lance Johnson, the other guy on the boat?" Willard asked.

"This may seem kinda strange, like something out of the X-Files…" McGee said.

Willard looked even more puzzled, "What?"

"It's a TV show." McGee replied

"The kind of things you miss during a year." Willard remarked.

"Uhm. About that…" McGee replied.

"About what?" Willard replied, taking a couple more steps towards McGee, "The year? What year is it?"

McGee looked over, "This might come as a surprise, but you're not in Vietnam at all. You're back in the US."

"What happened? Did we get retrieved after the VC hit us?" Willard asked.

"VC?" McGee asked.

"Vietcong. Surely you've been watching the news if you're a Fed." Willard replied.

"Vietnam's not exactly a hot news item these days." McGee said

"What? How the hell isn't 'Nam a hot item. When I went back to the World clips from 'Nam were leading the news." Willard replied.

McGee looked up again and then he said, "You're probably not going to believe this. But the year isn't 1969, or even 1970. It's 2003."

"Are you serious!?" Willard asked.

It was around then that DiNozzo turned up, having been shot down by the blonde nurse earlier, he remarked, "So, Sleeping Beauty is awake."

"And who the hell are you? Are you with this pretty boy over here?" Willard asked.

"Pretty boy?" Tony replied, indignant, "Who are you calling pretty boy?"

"The blonde/brown haired dandy talking to me." Willard replied.

"This coming from a guy in a hospital gown." DiNozzo quipped.

"Unlike you my choice of clothes was dictated by circumstances." Willard replied.

* * *

"Will you relax, Gibbs. I think DiNozzo and McGee should be able to handle things." Kate began as they stepped into the elevator.

"A situation where two men from the 1960s wake up and its 34 years into the future isn't exactly something covered by any experience any of us have ever had." Gibbs said, "Besides as a team leader I can't help but worry."

"How much trouble can DiNozzo possibly get into in half an hour?" Kate replied as the elevator door closed.

"This is DiNozzo we're talking about." Gibbs replied, as the elevator began its ascent.

"Even taking into account that DiNozzo is involved and two guys from the 1960s have regained consciousness I don't think Tony could get into that much trouble." Kate countered, with a raised eyebrow.

"Again, I think I should write a rule to always assume the worst with DiNozzo sometime." Gibbs replied.

Kate replied, "That sounds like something I would say, on a day where DiNozzo is driving me nuts. I'll bet you a cup of coffee that everything is just fine."

"You're on." Gibbs replied, as the elevator stopped at its destination, "But I think that cup of coffee is as good as mine."

"I'm sure everything is fi-" Kate began as the door opened.

The word died in her throat when she heard the sounds of arguing carrying into the waiting room as the elevator door slid open. She heard DiNozzo's voice first, "So, Sleeping Beauty is awake."

"And who the hell are you? Are you with this pretty boy over here?" It sounded like one of the men from the patrol boat.

"Pretty boy? Who are you calling pretty boy?"

Kate followed Gibbs as the latter began nearly running to the Isolation ward.

"The blonde/brown haired dandy talking to me."

"This coming from a guy in a hospital gown."

"Unlike you my choice of clothes was dictated by circumstances."

Under other circumstances Kate might've found the cutting remarks DiNozzo and one of the guys from the boat amusing, but right now, not so much.

"What the hell is going on here?" an irate Gibbs began, as he stormed into the ward.

"Evidently an example of two generations not getting along." McGee said.

Gibbs glared at McGee and then DiNozzo and Willard.

"Who the hell are you people and what the hell do you want?" Willard said, noticing two more people had come into the room, a silver haired man and a brown haired woman.

"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS." the man said, before indicating the woman, "And this is Special Agent Kate Todd."

"Captain Benjamin Willard, US Army." His eyes flickered between the four NCIS agents warily.

"What seems to be the problem?" Gibbs asked.

"Your boy over there," Willard said, indicating McGee with a canting of his head, "was trying to feed me some line about it being 2003."

"It's not some line, it is 2003." Kate chimed in.

Willard stared at her and then laughed, "You four have to be on some flavor of powerful weed. Or have had to have dropped acid recently."

"I'm sure none of us have used any sort of illegal drugs." Gibbs remarked.

"Mushrooms?" Willard said.

Annoyed, Gibbs said, "I am telling you with all seriousness the year is 2003, not 1969, Captain Willard."

Meanwhile Kate pulled out her PDA and began to make a note in it. Diagnosis: Just plain nuts.

"Did somebody say mushrooms?" a voice sounded from behind another curtained off area.

Five heads turned to see the tall, gangly, blonde haired fellow whose voice just screamed surfer dude come lumbering into the room.

"Hey, Lance." Willard said, "These four claim to be from some organzation called NCIS."

"Far out, man. Uhm, I mean sir." Lance replied, "I've got the biggest craving for pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms…"

"I'm sure that can be arranged, Gunners Mate 3rd Class Lance Johnson." Gibbs began.

"Groovy, how did you know my name?" Lance said with a toothy grin.

"We were evidently unconscious for a good while, Johnson." Willard said, "Thirty-four years if these four are right."

"What was the last thing you remember?" Gibbs asked.

Willard paused briefly. _What do these people know? Do they have clearance to know about this mission that doesn't exist? And is this some sort of ploy to get me to give details and arrest me for killing Kurtz? That's gotta be something ironic. The Army assigns me to kill Kurtz and then the Navy arrests me for doing that._

Willard took a deep breath and said, "We had finished our mission. Two of our crew had been killed getting there, and a third crewman got killed when we got to the mission site. Then as we approached the bridge at Do Lung Charlie hit us hard."

"Another term for the Vietcong." Gibbs explained.

"Yeah. Charlie had an ambush ready for us. Recoiless rifles. Heavy machineguns. Mortars. It was like the Fourth of July out there, giant parachute flare shoots into the sky and practically every God damn VC weapon on the Nung River opened up on us. We tried to break contact, shooting like maniacs and Lance crammed the throttle on before this big flash flashed in front of us and then we woke up here in this ward."

"Alright, we'll leave you gentlemen to rest and finish up your medical exams." Gibbs replied, "Agent DiNozzo will be here for the next few hours before Agent Todd relieves him. If you need anything or remember anything else, these agents will be your points of contact."

Gibbs, McGee and Kate left the room with DiNozzo going into the waiting room leaving Willard and Johnson alone.

"Hey, sir, do you think it is the year 2003?" Lance asked.

"I don't know." Willard said, "But I'm gonna find out. We don't know what they want with us, so lets keep things close to the vest for now."

"Ok." Lance said.

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard,  
1400, 21 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

"Ok Gibbs do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Abby replied as Gibbs, Kate and McGee walked into the lab.

"Bad news." Gibbs replied.

"The records for Captain Willard after 1967, still redacted. But I got acronym CIA in the non-redacted section at least once or twice." Abby replied.

"That's a start. So what's the good news?" Gibbs asked.

"Well one thing, I verified the boat was in Vietnam. The dirt samples from inside the boat all have organics in them…" Abby began.

"Organics?" Kate asked.

"Partiallly rotted vegetation." Abby explained, "A crushed flower on Willard's boot sole was a paphiopedilum appletonianum."

At everyone's curious looks Abby said, "Excuse me. It's a kind of orchid native to Southeast Asia."

"Which includes Vietnam." Kate replied.

"And my other tests confirm that everything on this boat was from the 1960s, for instance, Captain Willard's M16 rifle, serial number 159888, was issued in 1969. All the other weapon serial numbers on the boat come from that decade." Abby began.

"Anything else?"

"I found two blood smears on the boat, just enough for DNA testing, but this was before soldiers had DNA on file so I couldn't look in the database. I did run the search on PBR Street Gang and got the names of three missing crew members."

Abby indicated one of her plasma screens which showed three records with photos. One photo was of an older African American man with the rank and name Chief Quartermaster George Phillips being visible below the picture. The other was of a young African American, just seventeen years old, named Gunners Mate 3rd Class Tyrone Miller. And the third was of a Caucasian man with a brown handlebar mustache, named Engineman 3rd Class Jay Hicks.

"So far consistent with Willard's story, those three were killed during the course of their mission." Gibbs replied, "But you said you couldn't get any other records on PBR Street Gang or Willard, try as I might," Abby replied, "I'm afraid I'll need help with that one, Gibbs."

"I'll talk to Morrow and see what I can do on that end." Gibbs replied, "What reason were you given for being denied access to the records?"

"The mission and a chunk of Willard's service record were classified as Top Secret, by the CIA. It seems like after 1967 Benjamin Willard disappears from the US Army." Abby replied.

"So far as we know so far PBR Street Gang was on an unknown top secret mission somewhere past the bridge at Do Lung." Kate replied, tracing her finger along the map of the Nung River.

"Do Lung?" McGee asked.

"Do Lung, the westernmost US outpost on the Nung River, right next to the Cambodian border." Abby supplied, sipping at her Caf-Pow, "GIs called it the Outpost From Hell."

"Wait, that meant that's why Street Gang's mission was classified, they went across the border into Cambodia for whatever reason." Kate replied.

"Probably." Gibbs replied, "But I have the feeling there's a lot more to this than meets the eye."

"There's is a lot more to this than meets the eye." Abby said, she had an olive green bag and inside it were pages and pages of typewritten paper as well as a tape recorder and dozens of cassette tapes and a dossier.

"Where did you find that?" Gibbs asked.

"When I was doing one of my tests I found that bag underneath the small alcove by the console." Abby replied.

"What about the dossier?" Gibbs asked.

"It's about a Colonel Walter E. Kurtz, Operations Officer, 5th Special Forces Group." Abby replied.

"Alright," Gibbs said, "McGee, look up any US Army records on Colonel Kurtz, Kate, check through that dossier, see what information you can pull out of it. Maybe it has something to do with Willard's mission."

The two agents complied, moving to take care of their jobs as Abby continued the rest of her tests.

* * *

Two hours later: "Kurtz's file is about as redacted as Willards." McGee remarked as he looked through this latest He was occupying DiNozzo's desk for the time being since DiNozzo was still at Walter Reed, "It's a good thing Gibbs called my boss in Norfolk, and my boss agreed I could assist you guys with this case for the duration."

Kate barely heard McGee as she read Kurtz's dossier. "Seems like an impressive military career. But there's some entry here about a report he made to then-President Lyndon B. Johnson and the Joint Chiefs of Staff in 1964. It's a restricted file. Did your request manage to dig that up?"

"No. All I got was Colonel Kurtz's file with practically all his time in Vietnam redacted." McGee replied, "Anything interesting in that dossier?"

"Well, it looks like a stellar military career, with combat in Korea, till about 1964 and that report I mentioned." Kate replied, "Then three requests to go to Airborne and Special Forces, a career ender…"

"I thought that was a career enhancer, I mean these days Special Forces are all the rage." Mcgee replied.

"Not during Vietnam." Kate replied, "In those days Special Forces wasn't as prestigious as it is now. I don't get it, third generation West Point, top of his class, and then after one tour in Vietnam he turns in a report that is restricted."

"It would be really helpful if we were able to dig that report up." McGee said.

"It would certainly be helpful in building a psychological profile on the man." Kate replied, as she put the dossier down.

"Well there are thousands of these typewritten pages, all written by Kurtz over here." McGee said, "What about these tapes?"

"Let's get to those now." Kate said, blinking her eyes and putting the dossier down, "I think my eyes need a break."

McGee grabbed a tape, labeled Kurtz, and popped it into the tape recorder and then hit play. The first thing the two agents heard was a male voice, a neutral sounding one, as if the speaker was making a report of some kind, "Transmission 11, received '68, December 30, 05:00 hours, Sector King, Zulu, King."

Then the sound of a very haunted sounding male voice echoed into the room, "But we must kill them. We must incinerate them. Pig after pig. Cow after cow. Village after  
village. Army after army. And they call me an assassin. What do you call it, when the assassins accuse the assassin? They lie. They lie and we have to be merciful, for those who lie. Those nabobs. I hate them. I really hate them."

Kate felt like her blood had just turned to ice as she heard the voice. "Something drove this guy off the deep end, something he saw or did in Vietnam since 1964. He returned there in 1966, then back again in 1968." she said.

McGee walked over to Kate's desk, blinking with his own disturbance, as he picked up the dossier and continued to read through it, "This letter he wrote to his son is something else."

"What does it say?" Kate asked, "I didn't get that far into the dossier."

"Are you sure you want me to read that." McGee said, with an audible gulp, "This guy is pretty much a classic sociopath from this."

"Go ahead." Kate replied, "We need to build the profile on this guy."

McGee gulped and began to read, "Dear Son. I'm afraid that both you and your mother will have worried at not hearing from me during the past weeks, but my situation here has become a difficult one. I have been officially accused of murder by the army. The alleged victims were four Vietnamese double agents. We spent months uncovering then  
and accumulating evidence. When absolute proof was completed, we acted. We acted like soldiers. The charges are unjustified. They are, in fact, and under the circumstances of this conflict, quite completely insane."

Kate was furiously scribbling notes down on a legal pad as McGee was reading Kurtz's words, namely her own observations on the man.

"In a war, there are many moments for compassion and tender action. There are many moments for ruthless action. What is often called ruthless, but may, in many circumstances, be only clarity. Seeing clearly what there is to be done, and doing it directly, quickly, awake." McGee continued, noticing Kate was scribbling notes as fast as she could think and write, "I will trust you tell your mother what you choose about this letter. As for the charges against me, I am unconcerned. I am beyond their timid, lying morality, and so I am beyond caring. You have all my faith. Your loving father."

"The man sounds like he's playing God out there." Kate replied.

McGee continued to thumb through the dossier and zeroed in on another entry, "Late summer/early autumn of 1968, Kurtz had three Vietnamese men and one woman executed after his patrols were often attacked in the Central Highlands. Two of the dead were colonels in the South Vietnamese Army."

McGee laid four Republic of Vietnam government ID cards on the table.

Gibbs walked into the room then, "Any updates?"

"Whoever this Colonel Kurtz guy was, it seems like he didn't just fall off the edge. He jumped right off of it. He's got a definite God complex." Kate replied, pointing out the last few sentences of Kurtz's letter to his son after turning to that page in the dossier.

"Good so far, but we also need to know how Kurtz is connected to the two men of PBR Street Gang." Gibbs said, "And we definitely need to have a talk with Willard and Johnson about this."

"That's the thing, Gibbs. What is Kurtz's connection to Willard and Johnson, was he their commanding officer? Were they on a mission he dispatched them on? It could explain why Willard wasn't entirely forthcoming when we talked to him earlier." Kate replied.

"Kate, something tells me if we get the answer to either of those questions we'll be closer to PBR Street Gang's mission and maybe even figure out why it ran aground on the Anacostia River's bank thirty-four years and thousands of miles into the future." Gibbs replied.

The phone on Gibbs' desk began to ring and he reached over and grabbed it, "Gibbs."

"Hey Boss, we've got a problem." DiNozzo's voice echoed into Gibbs' ear, "We've got a business casual g-man here. Obviously a spook wanting to talk to Willard and Johnson. He answers to the name of Clayton Webb..."

* * *

To Be Continued...


	3. Turf War

Turf War

Disclaimer: Same as before. The characters of Aaron and Andi Dale and their son are my creation.

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard,  
1645, 21 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

"Sir, we have a problem." Gibbs said, as he walked into the office of Director Morrow.

Director Morrow rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index fingers and closed his eyes, already feeling the headache coming along as he asked, "Would this be before or after you discovered that supposed Navy PBR from the Vietnam War on the banks of the Anacostia River?"

"More like all of the above plus during." Gibbs began.

"Jethro, this sounds like something straight out of a science fiction movie. A Vietnam War patrol boat, declared missing during the war appears thirty four years later on the banks of a tributary of the Potomac River with two members of its crew looking like they haven't aged a day since their operation began in 1969. It does sound, how does Abby put it again, hinky." Morrow replied.

"Well, I've got evidence proving that the last place that boat had been was in Southeast Asia after a serious firefight with the Vietcong." Gibbs countered, ticking off examples on his fingers, "Number one, the fact that soil samples found on the clothing of the crew members showed evidence of plant life that's only common in Southeast Asia. Number two, when we spoke to the crew both of them swore that the year was 1969. And number three, the files on one of the crew members was largely redacted."

"Alright, putting your historical evidence aside, what is the problem?" Morrow replied, sipping his coffee as he spoke.

"Short answer or long?" Gibbs replied.

"Short, Jethro, if I want the long one I'll ask for it." Morrow replied.

"Three letters, CIA." Gibbs replied, "It looks like they redacted the two service records for Willard and Kurtz and a lot of the details of PBR Street Gang's mission, such as why it was on a voyage up the Nung River past the bridge of Do Lung."

"So you want the non-redacted versions of two very likely Top Secret reports." Morrow replied, eyes narrowing already anticipating this was going to be a headache and half.

"As well as keeping the CIA off our backs, at least till we finish the investigation." Gibbs added.

"Excuse me?" Morrow asked, eyebrows raised.

"One of their operatives, a Clayton Webb is hanging around Walter Reed hospital. I've got DiNozzo stonewalling him, but we need some top cover what I'm about to do."

"Which is?" Morrow said.

"Let's say a patient transfer for their further medical exams and a place to stay where we can keep an eye on them." Gibbs replied.

Once again Morrow's fingertips rubbed the sides of the bridge of his nose, between his eyes, the headache was going to be epic. "Gibbs, I probably will regret this, but I trust your judgment. I'll see what I can do about the paperwork."

Gibbs nodded, and walked out of the office and headed for the Bullpen. "Kate, you're heading over the Walter Reed shortly. Right?" Gibbs said.

"Yeah." Kate said, "What's going on?"

"Looks like we'll need to arrange for a patient transfer." Gibbs said flatly.

"Ok, why would we involve ourselves in something as mundane as a…" Kate began, before her voice trailed off, "Because it's not really a patient transfer, is it?"

"It looks like the CIA is wanting to get involved in this case." Gibbs said, "And our two best witnesses are who they're going after. DiNozzo's stonewalling their man, Webb, but I need you there quick."

"So when do you want me to get to the hospital?" Kate asked.

"Now might be best…" Gibbs said.

"I'll go home and grab some clothes from the ex-boyfriend pile, it might help them blend in a little better than two hospital gowns or Vietnam era uniforms." Kate replied, "And for the record, Gibbs, you're crazy."

"I've been told it's part of my charm." Gibbs smiled wryly.

"By which ex-wife?" Kate replied as she headed to the elevator.

"Don't forget, you owe me coffee for that last bet." Gibbs replied.

"I'll get it on the way back." Kate replied as the elevator door closed.

* * *

Walter Reed Army Hospital  
1630, 21 October 2003  
Washington D.C.  
United States

"And I am telling**_ you_** that this is well above the clearance of some Navy cops." Clayton Webb began.

The CIA Case Officer had been standing outside the Isolation Ward, however Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo Jr. as the great blonde/brown haired annoyance standing before him was named, hadn't let him cross over and talk to the two men in the Isolation Ward proper."I'm sorry, I can't authorize that." DiNozzo said with an oh so smug grin, "Until my boss says I can authorize that. So until your people call my people I can't allow that."

"Listen, Agent DiNozzo..." Webb began.

"Oh please, just call me Tony. No reason we can't be civil to one another despite bureaucracy getting in the way." DiNozzo remarked.

"Ok, fine, Tony." Webb said, "Now there's no reason we can't be civil about this. All I want to do is talk to those two."

"And I am telling you that my boss has to give me the OK. So again, have your people call my people and then we can talk." Tony replied.

He had received a text message from Kate saying that Gibbs was sending her a little early and that they were going to do a patient transfer that Gibbs had arranged. _Smuggle our two out. Clever Gibbs. Kate, get here fast, I'm not sure how much longer I can stall this guy._

The two continued to argue back and forth for another half hour before Webb conceded, "Fine, I'll call my people and I am sure they will be here with or without calling **_your_** people."

He stormed out of the isolation ward, just about pushing past Kate as she came down the hallway carrying a small black duffel bag on a strap across her chest.

"Miss me?" Kate quipped as she walked into the Isolation Ward's waiting room.

"Like a seal misses a killer whale." DiNozzo joked, "I take it the bag is for Gibbs' little plan."

"A few pieces of clothing from the ex-boyfriend pile should help those two blend in just nicely, or at least nicely enough that I can sneak them back to the Navy Yard." Kate replied.

Kate opened the door to the ward and put the bag down on a chair before saying, "Alright guys, we've got a patient transfer to do. I've got some clothes for you."

"What the hell is going?" Willard asked Kate.

"We'll explain later." Kate replied, "But right now I need you guys to get out of those hospital gowns…"

"A little forward, aren't we?" Willard replied with a chuckle.

Kate glared at him before continuing, "Before I was so rudely interrupted, I need you guys to get changed into the clothes in the bag on the chair. Sorry if they don't quite fit, but we need to get you guys out of here."

"What's going on?" Willard asked again.

"You'll get answers, trust me." Kate replied, "But now you two need to get out of here, quick."

Willard's gut instinct, honed by three tours in Vietnam, two of them with MACV-SOG told him to trust this woman. He looked over to Lance and nodded. The two men each grabbed an outfit and stepped behind the curtains surrounding their respective hospital beds before getting dressed.

They stepped out from behind the curtains, Willard wearing a College of William and Mary Rugby shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of sneakers and Lance wearing a gray t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of flip flops.

Both outfits belonged to Tim and thus the muscular Marine's clothing was a bit loose on Willard even though the men were roughly the same height, and a bit small on Lance who stood a good three inches taller than Tim.

Kate looked outside and then nodded to DiNozzo. Sneaking the two men out of a service elevator and towards the parking lot she drove them back to the Navy Yard and the red brick NCIS building.

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard,  
1755, 21 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

"I don't know, Thom," remarked Deputy Director Roper of the Central Intelligence Agency, "I sounds like a flimsy pretext, PBR Street Gang is a US Navy vessel, yes, but it was also a CIA asset."

"Jason," Morrow replied, "I am well aware of that and I am not adverse to the CIA being involved, I am just asking my investigators be the lead agency."

"What's to prevent my man Webb from just coming to the ward at another time and debriefing Willard and Johnson?" Roper replied.

"Go right ahead and try." Morrow said. _Gibbs I hope you came through with this. If you have you've given me one helluva a bargaining chip._

"You're bluffing." Roper replied. There was a brief pause that told Morrow that Roper was indeed about to order Webb to do just that. A few minutes later Roper came back onto the line, "Fine, NCIS is the lead agency for this investigation. But your people are to sign non-disclosure agreements."

"That can be arranged." Morrow replied.

"Have them ready to meet Webb first thing in the morning." Roper said, with a tired sigh and hanging up.

_Round one of NCIS versus CIA. Point for us. I just hope that we can still stay one step ahead._ Morrow thought.

* * *

"Good job Kate." Gibbs said, as he and Kate stood on top of the stairs to the balcony, having left Willard and Johnson in company with McGee and Abby, "You got them past Webb."

"Why do I get the feeling the other shoe is about to drop." Kate replied.

"Well, first off we can't just let those two stay unsupervised in the building all night." Gibbs replied, "So I'll need you to stay behind and keep an eye on those two."

"Why me and not McGee or Abby?" Kate asked.

"From what you told me Willard at least seemed to open up to you, trust you the most." Gibbs replied, "I'll need you to maintain that."

Kate was about to protest but then realized Gibbs had been right, Willard had been willing to go out on a limb and trust her. She nearly missed Gibbs' next statement.

"I'll give you the day off at the end of all this." Gibbs replied.

"Thanks." Kate replied, "And I have a friend I can talk to as well, in case Webb gives us any more trouble."

"Who is he? Or she?" Gibbs asked.

"His name is Aaron Dale, he's a case officer with the Defense Intelligence Agency, the military counterpart to the CIA." Kate replied and before Gibbs could answer she added, "And no, I didn't date the guy. I introduced him to his wife when I was with the Secret Service. His wife was a coworker of mine."

"I wasn't about to ask." Gibbs replied, "After all this isn't Air Force One."

"You Mean Alpha Foxtrot 2900." Kate countered.

"No need to argue semantics." Gibbs replied.

* * *

Willard stood in Abby's lab with Johnson. The agent named McGee in company with a woman best described as a Bride of Frankenstein dresser. Something she had described as Goth.

"This is a computer?" Willard said as he looked over the desktop tower and the monitor, "I thought these things took up entire rooms."

"They've made some advances over the past thirty-four years." McGee replied, "To include something called the internet."

"What's that?" Willard replied.

"It's a telecommunication system that allows a computer user to look up almost anything they want." McGee said, turning on the computer, "Check this, you Google almost anything you want."

"Google?" Willard asked.

Lance had wandered over, having been listening to some music with Abby on the other side of the room, or at least what Abby had called music.

McGee punched a couple keys up, "You type in the URL in the address bar and…"

"Whoa, slow down there." Willard said.

"Watch." McGee said with a nod and typed the words, into the Internet Explorer address bar.

Then the Google homepage came up. "Want to look up anything?" McGee asked.

Willard typed in the word SOG and there were thousands of websites were listed.

"Far out." Lance remarked.

"I so think that we could use some _For Dummies_ books." Abby remarked.

"What are those?" Willard asked.

"Oh, its a series of books that breaks down a subject so well a dummy could understand it." Abby replied.

"Groovy." Lance chimed in, as he sipped on a Caf-Pow, "And I love these Caf-Pows."

Willard turned to see Lance was just about shaking as he was drinking the heavily caffeinated beverage.

"What the hell is in those things, cocaine?" Willard quipped.

_What a hell of a time period._ Willard thought. _Weird office dress codes, you can't smoke in the office, computers that you can look up nearly anything in the world on..._

* * *

_"Like a dark evil cloud, 1,200 came down on him and 29 more. They fought for their lives but most of them died in the 173rd Airborne. On the 8th of November the angels were crying as they carried his brothers away." _**- from the 8th of November by Big and Rich.**

* * *

Operation Hump  
1000, 8 November 1965  
17.5 miles North of Bien Hoa  
Republic of Vietnam

"Think Charlie survived all that?" Private Anthony Mazzola said with his thick New York accent from behind the M60 machinegun set up in a crater made by a mortar bomb that had exploded over there.

"How'n the hell should I know." Private First Class Johnny Tills echoed back with his Tenessee country twang, "Alls I know is them boys from Alpha Company said the VC tend to turn tail when hit with arty and air attacks. On the other hand, my buddy in 2nd platoon said that the last time Charlie decided to stand and fight. What do you wan' me to tell ya."

"You're a big help, Tills." Mazzola spat back sarcastically, "Nothin', tell me nothin'. I'll tell you somethin' though, us sittin' here like a bunch of fuckin' ducks, that's nuts."

"I already know that." Tills replied as he scanned the damn near denuded landscape.

"I never bargained for nothin' like this when I signed up for this man's army back in the Bronx before the war. How was I supposed to know there was gonna be a fuckin' war, hanh? Answer me that?" Mazzola remarked to himself.

A few feet away First Lieutenant Benjamin L. Willard scanned the burned hillside, just overhearing Mazzola and Tills going back and forth at one of his two machinegun positions. Scanning over the lip of the wrecked bomb crater, trying not to think about the Vietcong corpse blown in half by a mortar bomb lying about thirty feet and to the left of his line of sight.

"Did you hear that?" PFC Ramon Vargas said as raised his M16A1 from behind a rock to the right of Willard's position, between him, Mazzola and Tills.

"I didn't hear anything." Specialist Bryant said, raising his M79 grenade launcher, gasping and breathing hard, behind the same rock Vargas was behind.

"Relax." Sergeant Reese remarked from a half destroyed tree trunk near the bomb crater, "They get here you'll know it."

"LT?" Bryant said, looking down towards Willard's position as he raised a small pair of binoculars with his left hand to look out over the wrecked landscape of Hill 65.

Willard put his binoculars down and turned over to look into the eyes of a nervous young face, unbearded since puberty had but barely passed.

"Yeah." Willard replied. _Twenty-nine of these guys, they're my responsibility. I can't look scared. I hope to God Charlie didn't survive that barrage. How the hell could anything have survived that._

He could hear the clicking of Vargas' safety as he clicked the safety on his M16A1 from safe to single fire to full auto and then back to safe again.

"Do you think Charlie survived all that?" Bryant asked, referring to the extremely recent artillery barrage and air strikes that had been called in on known and suspected Vietcong positions on and around Hill 65.

"Stay sharp, soldier." Willard replied, and with a bravado he wasn't quite feeling, "Just keep scanning your sector and if Charlie shows we let him have it."

"Yes sir." Bryant replied.

Sergeant First Class Weller, the platoon sergeant, ran, keeping low, carrying bandoliers of 20 round M16 mags, a bag of hand grenades and a bandolier of 40mm grenades. God bless him.

Willard marked known points on his map, setting his rifle down to do so. Specialist Mitchell sat behind his radio, just behind Willard, shouted, "VC spotted. Second platoon calling for fire. Outgoing."

Willard clutched his helmet to his head and held his rifle close to him as the loud booms of artillery shells smashed into the treeline on the unit's front to the left and just slightly to the rear of his own position.

After the barrage an eerie silence.

Vargas again, "Maybe they're not coming. Maybe they're turning back. Maybe we got 'em all…"

The silence again. And then a battle cry sounded. Whistles. Gunfire. From the denuded landscape, from tunnels and holes dug into the hillside the Vietcong surged forward.

Willard raised his M16, sighting in on a Vietcong soldier firing his AK from the hip. "Fire!" He shouted, somewhat unnecessarily as the entire platoon was opening fire on the attacking VC.

Willard watched the VC drop to the ground as his bullets tore into the man, switching his aim around, firing again in a short burst from his M16. The bastards just kept coming, even after the M60s were mowing them down, and 40mm grenades from the M79 gunners were exploding into their ranks.

"Fuck! I'm hit! I'm hit!" Bryant shouted, collapsing back as a Vietcong jumped over the rock.

Vargas promptly struck the Vietcong soldier in the side of the head with the stock of his rifle, knocking the man down only to be bayoneted by another Vietcong soldier.

Willard fired a burst of fire from his M16A1, the last rounds in his magazine for the killer of one of his men. Shouting coordinates, positions, calling for mortar fire damn near in front of his own troops.

The machineguns chattering. Rifles on both sides opening up. He could see Reese stab a knife into the chest of the Vietcong Vargas had knocked over, then come up and stab a second one in the neck that had just jumped over the rock, stepping on the screaming Bryant's wounded arm in his haste to get over the obstacle.

Seeing Reese charge like a man possessed, bellowing a savage cry, with the knife at a third VC before reloading his own M16A1 and firing at other VC in short bursts of fire. Throwing back an enemy grenade that had landed right next to him.

Seeing Sergeant First Class Weller fall backwards, clutching at his belly, lying dazed on his back, his jaw moving and nothing coherent coming out of his mouth.

Hearing more explosions after the whine of mortar rounds crashed earthward practically in front of 1st platoon, his platoon's, position. Seeing three Vietcong practically disappear when a mortar round exploded right in the midst of them.

The mission. The mission to keep the Vietcong from getting into the consolidated positions of B and C Companies of the 1st Battalion of the 503rd Infantry, keep them from getting to the wounded of Charlie and Bravo Companies.

"Broken Arrow. Broken Arrow!" He barely recognized his own voice calling for fire on his own positions.

Feeling the shockwaves of multiple blasts reverberating through him as rounds exploded among the platoon's positions. Dragging the wounded Bryant into the bomb crater, looking into the terrified boy's eyes as the bombs fell amongst them.

* * *

_"We humped through the jungle looking for Charlie for months, with nothing to show for it. At Bien Hoa we found him in spades. Charlie got in among us. We barely drove him off, and I wasn't the only platoon leader to call broken arrow that day."_ **- 1LT Benjamin L. Willard, C Co., 1st Battalion, 503rd Infantry, 173rd Airborne Brigade, 9 November 1965.**

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard,  
2255, 21 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

Benjamin Willard sat bolt upright in the chair behind the agent called DiNozzo's desk, eyes popping wide open with a wordless shout. He was still sitting behind the desk, breathing hard, breathing in and breathing out, when Kate woke up from a sleeping pad she had unrolled behind her own desk.

Kate had heard the shout and woke up, just in time to see Willard sit bolt upright screaming.

"Are you ok?" Kate asked, as she headed over to him.

"I'm fine…" Willard replied.

"Sounded like you just had a nightmare." Kate replied, concern etching her features.

Willard gulped audibly as he regarded the newly awakened woman. He reached into his pocket, finding the lighter and the pack of cigarettes.

"You know you can't smoke in here, right?" Kate remarked.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna step outside." Willard replied, putting the unlit cigarette into his mouth. Kate grabbed her own jacket before she followed Willard outside.

"Those will kill you, you know?" Kate began as she followed Willard outside to the building front.

"Only if I live." Willard replied as he took a seat near one of the ashtrays outside and lit his cigarette with a shrug.

"So what's wrong?" Kate asked again.

"Nothing." Willard replied as he took a drag from his cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke into the night air.

"Huh, nothing doesn't make someone sit up screaming from a sound sleep and want to light a cigarette." Kate replied.

"Pretty direct, aren't you." Willard countered, taking a deep breath.

"It's part of my line of work." Kate replied, as she took out her PDA.

"Which is?" Ben replied.

"I'm a profiler by trade." Kate replied.

"Interesting" Ben replied, and with a wry grin and a second drag off his cigarette, "So what are your profiling skills telling you about me?"

"Army officer, late twenties to early thirties, with an unhealthy habit, keeps things in a lot, and a decidedly fatalistic attitude." Kate replied.

"Fatalistic?" Willard said with a raised eyebrow.

"The 'only if I die' comment you said, with a distinct shrug is a dead giveaway." Kate replied.

"Hey, I survived three tours in Nam." Ben replied, taking a third drag off his cigarette. Again he shrugged his shoulders.

"You did it again." Kate replied.

"Did what?" Willard asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You shrugged your shoulders when you talked. I think some would call that a 'tell'." Kate replied.

"I guess so." Willard replied, with another shrug.

"So what was it?" Kate replied. At Willard's quizzical expression she added, "The dream."

"Bien Hoa, 1965." Willard replied, "I was a platoon leader with C Company, 1st of the 503rd Infantry, 173rd Infantry Brigade on my first tour in Nam. I was there on 8 November 1965, the day Charlie decided to quit slinking off in the brush for once."

Kate listened, her PDA and notes forgotten as Willard took another drag out of his cigarette.

"I still remember before all that soldiers doing what they do best. Gripe." Willard replied, "In the seven months we were in Nam, humping through the brush guys I lost count of the number of times guys would gripe about Charlie popping off a few rounds and running off and wishing for a straight up fight."

Willard paused, remembering PFC Ramon Vargas, Los Angeles, California, the tough city boy who was always first to get pissed off at Charlie's hit and run tactics. _Looks like you got what you wanted, Vargas._

It all came back again, memories of the guys of 1st Platoon, C Company. The first unit that Benjamin L. Willard would ever lead in combat. Mazzola griping about never bargaining for nothing like this. Tills supplying his country wisdom. Sergeant First Class Weller always telling them to pipe down and quit bellyaching. Sergeant Reese always sharpening his knife. Tommy Bryant always going a mile a minute about girls in his native Boston only to start an argument with Specialist Mitchell about girls in the heartland.

Kate could see Willard's eyes, he seemed to be looking at someplace far away, recalling some time far away.

He remembered it again, Hill 65. Tills' arm in the bandages as he was still manning the machinegun. Mazzola looking like an old man, not a scratch on him, not a scratch anyone could see anyway. Weller and Bryant being carried away on stretchers. Vargas gored through the back by the AK bayonet. Reese still scanning the landscape, M16 at the ready.

"I'm sorry." Kate said softly, "Whatever it is."

Those five words did cut through Willard's memories of first blood and he turned to face Kate and said, with a quiet gulp of a dry swallow, putting out the remnant of his cigarette, "Thank you."

* * *

To Be Continued...


	4. Enter Agent Webb

Enter Agent Webb

Disclaimer: Same as before.

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard  
0835, 22 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

* * *

_"Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnny Ray, South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio, Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, Television,North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe."_ The opening notes and lyrics of Billy Joel's We Didn't Start the Fire as DiNozzo walked out of the elevator.

"Nice." Tony said as he headed towards Kate's desk where the song in question was playing. He could see Willard, Johnson and Abby clustered around the desk as well with various chairs pulled up from around the room.

"So who's ideas was it to bring the 80s into the office?" Tony asked as he stood with the group clustered around Kate's desk.

"Kate's," Abby supplied, "It started when Willard asked a few questions about the decades since he got sent forward in time."

"So you decided to use a Billy Joel song with a catchy tune that easily gets stuck in your head?" DiNozzo said, scratching his head.

"Hey, it worked for one of my teachers to teach us forty years worth of history." Kate replied.

_"Rosenberg's H-Bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom, Brando, The King And I, and The Catcher In The Rye, Eisenhower, Vaccine, England's got a new queen, Marciano, Liberace, Santayana goodbye."_ Billy Joel's singing continued.

"I was curious about the decades I missed since 1969, the 70s, the 80s..." Willard began.

"The 70s and the 80s? You're not missing anything! I looked into it. There's a gas shortage and a flock of seagulls. That's about it." DiNozzo remarked.

"You ripped that line from a movie, didn't you?" Kate remarked.

"Very good, Caitlin." Tony quipped with a smile.

"Austin Powers the Spy Who Shagged Me." Abby remarked with a grin.

Gibbs came out of the elevator just then, "I assume there's a reason Billy Joel is blaring into this office?"

"Just a history lesson for our two guests, boss." DiNozzo said.

_"We didn't start the fire. It was always burning. Since the world's been turning. We didn't start the fire. No we didn't light it. But we tried to fight it."_ Billy Joel's classic continued.

"Clever. When you're done listening to a song/history lesson we need to have a quick meeting before Webb gets here." Gibbs said.

_"Joseph Stalin, Malenkov, Nasser and Prokofiev, Rockefeller, Campanella, Communist Bloc, Roy Cohn, Juan Peron, Toscanini, Dacron, Dien Bien Phu Falls, Rock Around the Clock, Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn's got a winning team, Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland, Bardot, Budapest, Alabama, Khrushchev, Princess Grace, Peyton Place, Trouble in the Suez."_

"Whoa far out." Lance remarked, "Forty years of history in one song?"

"Yeah a decade or so in each verse." Kate replied, "In less than ten minutes my sophomore year history teacher managed to teach the 20th century from 1949 to 1989 with a pop song."

"Sounds like a smart man." Willard remarked.

"Woman, actually. Miss Kinnian was her name." Kate replied, "Really smart lady."

"We didn't start the fire, It was always burning, Since the world's been turning, We didn't start the fire, No we didn't light it, But we tried to fight it."

"Catchy tune." Willard remarked as he sipped his coffee, "Likely to be stuck in my in head all day."

_"Little Rock, Pasternak, Mickey Mantle, Kerouac, Sputnik, Chou En-Lai, Bridge On The River Kwai, Lebanon, Charles de Gaulle, California baseball, Starkweather Homicide, Children of Thalidomide…Buddy Holly, Ben-Hur, Space Monkey, Mafia, Hula Hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go, U2, Syngman Rhee, payola and Kennedy, Chubby Checker, Psycho, Belgians in the Congo."_

DiNozzo let out a tired sigh, "Likely to be stuck in my head too."

"What do you know, Pretty Boy has a brain to get song lyrics stuck in." Willard sniped.

"Well, I'm equally surprised you have a brain left after exposure to Agent Orange." DiNozzo quipped, "Sounds like a good nickname for you, Agent Orange."

Kate sighed tiredly, "Just because this song came out while I was in high school doesn't mean you two start acting like you're in an '80s high school."

"We didn't start the fire, It was always burning, Since the world's been turning, We didn't start the fire, No we didn't light it, But we tried to fight it."

"Hey boss," Lance said to Willard as the next verse began, "I recognize stuff from our time."

"Hey, yeah, you're right." Willard replied.

_"Hemingway, Eichmann, Stranger in a Strange Land, Dylan, Berlin, Bay of Pigs invasion, Lawrence of Arabia, British Beatlemania, Ole Miss, John Glenn, Liston beats Patterson. Pope Paul, Malcolm X, British Politician sex, J.F.K. blown away, what else do I have to say...We didn't start the fire. It was always burning. Since the world's been turning. We didn't start the fire. No we didn't light it. But we tried to fight it."_

The next verse began, and Willard commented, "I remember some of the things in the verse playing now."

He felt a chill as he heard the line about homeless vets. How many guys from his old unit were living by panhandling and begging on the street? He'd already started seeing it happen after his first and second tour.

_"Birth control, Ho Chi Minh, Richard Nixon back again, Moonshot, Woodstock, Watergate, punk rock, Begin, Reagan, Palestine, Terror on the airline, Ayatollah's in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan, Wheel of Fortune, Sally Ride, heavy metal, suicide, Foreign debts, homeless Vets, AIDS, Crack, Bernie Goetz, Hypodermics on the shore, China's under martial law, Rock and Roll, cola wars, I can't take it anymore...We didn't start the fire. It was always burning. Since the world's been turning."_

Nothing really had changed, it seemed, in thirty-four years. The world was still one full of conflict, apparently with new diseases.

"Hey, Agent Orange." DiNozzo began, "You guys have a debriefing with Agent Webb at 0900."

"I'm meeting someone for lunch." Kate replied.

"Who are you meeting?" DiNozzo asked.

"A friend of mine, Aaron Dale." Kate replied.

"Oh, that kind of meeting." DiNozzo quipped.

Kate reddened, "He's married, Tony."

"Whoa, Kate, I didn't know you weren't the kind of girl to." DiNozzo remarked.

"He's a friend, Tony. I introduced him to his wife four years ago. She's a friend of mine." Kate replied, getting much more heated.

_"We didn't start the fire. But when we are gone. It will still burn on and on and on and on. And on and on and on and on...We didn't start the fire. It was always burning. Since the world's been turning. We didn't start the fire. No we didn't light it. But we tried to fight didn't start the fire. It was always burning. Since the world's been turning. We didn't start the fire. No, we didn't light it. But we tried to fight it. We didn't start the fire. It was always burning. Since the world's been turning. We didn't start the fire. No, we didn't light it. But we tried to fight it."_

"Now that the history lesson is finished, Captain Willard, Petty Officer Johnson, you two have a debriefing with Mr. Webb at 0930." Gibbs began as he walked back into the bullpen.

"Kate's also got a meeting at lunch, Boss." DiNozzo remarked.

"With who?" Gibbs asked, noticing how Kate shot DiNozzo a look that was clearly in the 'if looks could kill' category.

"Aaron Dale from the Defense Intelligence Agency, the military counterpart to the CIA." Kate replied, "He's married to a friend of mine from my Secret Service days. I introduced them. Remember I brought this up last night?"

"I remember." Gibbs replied, "Keep to that meeting."

"Your gut telling you something?" Kate replied.

"Let's just say I could use a bit of insurance in case Webb is anything less than forthcoming with us, which I'm expecting he will be." Gibbs replied, "Webb's on his way."

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard  
0900, 22 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

"Well Webb certainly was thorough with our request for information." Abby said, referring to the very large quantity of files and paperwork having to do with SOG, Colonel Kurtz, Captain Willard and other matters from that part of the Vietnam War.

"And let's not forget there's still pages and pages of Kurtz's manifesto here that we got from PBR Street Gang." McGee remarked as he and Kate walked into Abby's lab.

"Where's Webb?" Abby asked.

"He's with Gibbs and DiNozzo." Kate replied, "We might want to keep Kurtz's manifesto under wraps for now. There had to be a reason Gibbs and DiNozzo made sure to escort Webb directly to the interrogation room where Willard and Johnson are waiting."

"Subterfuge, ooh, hinky." Abby remarked with a smile.

"Whatever it is, we need something to bargain with Webb about." Kate replied, and with a sigh remarked, "I never used to think this deviously until I started working here."

"That's the fun part." Abby said as she and McGee moved Kurtz's manifesto, the thousands of typed pages of it, further into the room and out of sight.

"Abby, I think your definition and my definition of fun can be radically different." Kate remarked.

"The dossier the CIA have on Kurtz is a bit thicker than the one we recovered from Willard." McGee said as he took one file out of the stack of paperwork some of Webb's people dropped off earlier that day and leafed through it, "It even had profiler notes in there, similar to ours actually."

"Let me see that." Kate replied as she headed over to McGee, reading some of the small notations and noticing words like 'God complex' and 'possible megalomania' appearing over and over again.

"Do you think Willard and Johnson were working for Kurtz and that's what got the rest of their crew killed?" McGee remarked, "Like maybe the crew of this patrol boat was trying to get Kurtz's papers downstream of the Nung River and the Viet Cong ambush killed three of them? Maybe Kurtz's camp was in danger of being overrun in Cambodia and he sent the patrol boat's crew to take his legacy back to the world. Maybe trying to justify his actions."

"I don't think much of the crime scene would be left after thirty-four years." Kate replied as she held up a map that had been in Willard's possession when they had found him, in a map case slung across his chest.

"It's got Kurtz's camp marked at the banks of Nung River, about 75 kilometers into Cambodia." Kate continued, her finger right below Willard's pencil markings, "Abby, do you think you could pull up military terms and graphics?"

Kate's brow furrowed at the symbol of a trapezoid with no bottom with an arrow on the top pointing at the area marked as Kurtz's encampment. She walked over and showed Abby the symbol.

Abby punched a few keys, "If I'm reading this right that's a map symbol for attack by fire, it looks like Willard marked Kurtz's encampment to destroy it then."

"That shoots down the theory that Willard and PBR Street Gang was working for Kurtz." Kate replied.

"Not necessarily, I mean there could be the possibility that Willard was working for Kurtz, found out Kurtz was doing some seriously immoral stuff and then planned to call an air strike or artillery strike on the camp and it all went wrong." McGee replied.

"The rounds we found in the boat were 7.62x39mm, Soviet issue rounds. That tells me it was the Vietcong that hit the boat." Abby replied.

"Not necessarily. Sometimes Special Forces teams use AKs and other enemy weapons. Kurtz was Special Forces, after all." Kate interjected, "So if the theory is that Willard and Kurtz had some form of falling out and Willard was going to call that airstrike in on him then probably Kurtz found out, maybe through a double agent on Willard's crew, and the reason this boat is shot full of holes is because they were trying to pull a quick getaway off before the place got blown to hell and Kurtz's guys used enemy weapons to hid their involvement."

McGee said, "I'll look into these files and see if any sort of strikes were authorized around those coordinates in 1969."

After a few minutes McGee remarked, "You're not gonna believe this."

"What?" Kate remarked before tiredly sighing, "Let me guess, redacted, right?"

"Yeah." McGee said, with a frustrated sigh.

"It seems to be a common theme with whatever is associated with PBR Street Gang and its mission." Kate replied, "That's one of quite a few questions I'll remember to ask Aaron, my contact at the Defense Intelligence Agency."

"You weren't…" Abby began.

"Abby, no. He's just a friend, I introduced him to his wife four years ago." Kate replied.

"It would just have been so spy-vs-spy if it was an ex-boyfriend you were asking about the redacted airstrike." Abby began.

"Abby," Kate began, gently but firmly, "How much caffeine did you consume?"

"One Caf-Pow and some Red Bulls before that." Abby replied.

"How many?" Kate asked.

"One or two..." Abby replied, with a theatrical wave of her hands.

"That's all?" Kate replied, her left eyebrow raised with suspicion.

"...Dozen." Abby replied.

"In other words you're wired like a third world electrical panel." Kate quipped, "Nice."

"I wonder how DiNozzo is doing having to deal with Webb." McGee remarked.

* * *

"Oh, Agent Webb, we meet again." DiNozzo remarked, smiling with an oh-so snarky grin, "I see your people called my people."

"So it would seem, Agent DiNozzo." Webb remarked, irritated.

"Clayton, there's no need for the hostility, after all we could always start afresh as friends." DiNozzo replied.

"I do have better tastes in friends, DiNozzo." Webb replied frostily.

"DiNozzo, if you're through posturing, escort Mr. Webb to the interrogation room."

"Gladly, boss." DiNozzo remarked and said, "Right this way."

* * *

Washington Navy Yard, 1130  
22 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

When Aaron Dale arrived at the small cafeteria on the Washington Navy Yard Kate was immediately struck with how her old friend bore a striking resemblance to Willard minus his stockier, heavier build and slightly taller frame at 5'9".

"Hey Aaron." Kate said, as her friend approached.

The man smiled and said, "Kate, how's it going?"

He caught his friend in a hug which she returned and he asked, "So how have you been? Since you joined NCIS it's like you disappeared."

"It's been an interesting year so far." Kate replied.

"I'm sorry about Tim." Aaron replied.

Kate smiled and said, "Thank you. How is Andi doing?"

Aaron smiled and said, "She's doing well, she's at home with our son supervising the movers."

"You guys finally got a house?" Kate asked.

"Yeah, it was after Andi got pregnant that we realized that as big as my apartment is we needed a proper house to raise a baby." Aaron smiled, "And I can't thank you enough for introducing us."

"You're welcome." Kate replied, "And tell Andi congratulations for me, by the way. I'm sorry I've been so busy. I should drop by sometime."

"You'd be welcome. Andi's already talking about hosting a housewarming." Aaron replied, "And consider yourself already on the invite list."

"Thanks Aaron." Kate replied, thinking, _God it feels terrible to ask him a favor like do some digging on redacted top secret reports for one air strike._

Aaron's eyebrows furrowed as he regarded Kate, the DIA case officer part of his mind spinning, "What's on your mind, Caitlin?"

"Aaron, I'm sorry to do this, but do you think you could help me with something?" Kate replied. H_e's always being serious whenever he calls me Caitlin._

"What is it?" Aaron asked.

"I need you to look up air strikes into Cambodia during the Vietnam War, in the year 1969." Kate asked.

"Ok, any place in particular in Cambodia?" Aaron asked, his head angling to one side in that peculiar way it would when he was especially intrigued about something.

"Anywhere in vicinity of the Nung River, within 150 kilometers of the Vietnamese border west of the Bridge at Do Lung." Kate replied, pulling her PDA and adding, "I'll beam it to you, hang on."

Aaron reached into his own pocket and extracted his PDA. "Yep, I got it, thanks Kate." Aaron replied, with his trademark affable grin, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Aaron." Kate replied.

"You're welcome. And I'll be sure to send that invite your way." Aaron replied.

All this time Kate couldn't help but wonder. Minus a couple inches in height and a couple more inches across the shoulders Aaron Dale could easily pass for Captain Benjamin L. Willard, US Army, who was currently having a chat with Agent Webb in their interrogation room. It had been thirty four years since Willard had last been seen after all.

"Kate? Is something wrong?" Aaron asked, again with the furrowing of his eyebrows.

"Aaron, sorry, this is going to sound strange to you, but how old are you?" Kate asked.

"I'm thirty-six." Aaron replied, "Why?"

"Long story. And what about your father?" Kate asked.

"Missing in Action in Vietnam, anyway he and my Mom divorced when I was a year old anyway. I never knew my biological father but I had a real Dad by the time I was four, and he was twice the Dad my biological father ever was." Aaron replied, and frowned, "Caitlin, what is this all about?"

"Aaron, I can't really explain right now. Can you look up that information or not?" Kate replied.

"I'll see what I can do." Aaron replied, "I just hope you can explain all this to me sometime."

"That could be complicated." Kate replied, "But again, thank you."

Aaron's phone chimed, and he glanced at the text message he had just received, "Hey, hate to cut this short, looks like Andi needs a bit of help with the movers."

"Ok, do what you have to do." Kate replied.

"Again, I'll get that invite to you once Andi tells me the day she wants to hold the housewarming." Aaron said as he stood up and headed out of the cafeteria, leaving Kate alone with her thoughts.

_Could it be Aaron and Willard are closely related? After all Aaron's about the right age for Willard to have been his father...No that couldn't be. Or could it?_ Kate thought.

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard  
0900, 22 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

Clayton Webb set the legal pad and the dossier on PBR Street Gang's mission on the table before he took the seat across from Captain Benjamin L. Willard and Gunners Mate 3rd Class Lance Johnson.

"Gentlemen, please inform me of the details of your mission." Webb began, "My last records of you indicate you made a radio check at the Bridge at Do Lung and were proceeding up the Nung River into Cambodia."

"That's accurate, sir." Ben replied, "We got past the Bridge at Do Lung, after I received the additional message regarding Captain Colby before we pushed on to our objective."

"Ok, past the Bridge at Do Lung, I assume that's where Petty Officers Clean and Hicks and Chief Phillips were killed?" Webb replied.

"Mr. Clean died just past Do Lung Bridge. We came under attack from the riverbank, NVA or Cambodian forces hit us. And Mr. Clean was killed in the fighting." Ben replied, "And then we got a few klicks further up the Nung River, then the Yards hit us with arrows..."

"Arrows?" Webb said, looking up at Willard.

"Yes, some of the Montagnards still used arrows and spears." Ben remarked, "They were all toy arrows, dull ones that wouldn't hurt anyone until we started shooting and Chief got gored through the back by a spear."

"Alright, then what happened?" Webb asked.

"We continued up the Nung River until we reached Kurtz's camp..." Ben began.

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard  
1245, 22 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

As Kate walked off the elevator McGee came running over to her. "Got some more information on Willard, I'm about to brief Gibbs." McGee exclaimed, he seemed a bit excited, as if he'd run over from Abby's lab.

"What do you have, McGee?" Kate asked.

McGee held up a file on Willard, one that had been amongst the documents the CIA had brought by together with Webb earlier that morning.

"Willard's job with SOG had initially been leading reconnaissance teams into Laos, but sometime in 1968, after the Tet Offensive of January, his job changed to Intelligence-Counterintelligence." McGee replied.

"Meaning he basically was the guy who was looking for double agents, spies and traitors." Kate replied, connecting the dots.

"And if Kurtz was that unhinged, and his tapes and manifesto show that just nicely..." McGee replied.

"...Then Willard was sent to kill Kurtz not work for him." Kate concluded.

"Hey, it's real cute you two finishing each others' sentences, but Gibbs wants to see us in the conference room now." DiNozzo said after coming down the stairs.

"Kate," Gibbs began, as Kate walked into the conference room and took her seat, "How was that meeting with your friend."

"Aaron said he'd get back to me. But I think we might have a problem." Kate replied.

"What is it?" Gibbs asked.

"It's just a my friend Aaron is pretty much a dead ringer for Willard to look at him." Kate replied, "We might need to see if we can't get him read in on this."

"Kate, what did you tell him?" Gibbs said.

"Nothing, I asked a couple of questions." Kate replied, "And I think my friend's husband might well be Willard's son."

"So you want to bring someone in on this little secret of ours based on a supposition?" Gibbs said.

"Look, Gibbs, I'll run a search, see if I'm right. And if I'm wrong I'll won't try to get Aaron read in. All I've got him doing is some research on any airstrikes into Cambodia in 1969."

"To find out what?" Gibbs asked.

"The fate of Kurtz's camp." Kate replied, "McGee, tell Gibbs what you found."

McGee began to speak, "Captain Willard's specific duties in SOG started out with him serving with a reconnaissance team, crossing the border into Laos, but after the Tet Offensive of 1968 his job changed to Intelligence and Counter-Intelligence. His job was finding traitors, double agents, and spies."

"That's what counterintelligence does, McGee." Gibbs replied.

"Find them and kill them." McGee continued, "He was an assassin. His mission was to find Kurtz and kill him from what we were able to read."

"The dossier also contained reports that Colonel Kurtz was to be arrested for murder." Abby added, "Then he crossed into Cambodia with his army of Montagnards and fought his own war against the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army. The guy was seriously mental, if you've read any of his stuff or heard any of his tapes. And they sent Willard to kill him."

"What's the status on the debriefing?" Gibbs asked.

"They're still in interrogation." Abby replied, "And Webb is forbidding any recording."

"I want to talk to those two as soon as Webb is done." Gibbs replied, "Whatever excuse Webb gives do not allow him to leave the building with those two. Be ready to offer Kurtz's tapes and documents as bargaining."

* * *

To Be Continued...


	5. Epilogue: What Happens Now

Epilogue: What Happens Now

Disclaimer: Same as before…

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard,  
1320, 22 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

"So after you made contact with Kurtz's team, then what?" Webb asked.

"We were taken prisoner, Chef was killed." Willard replied, conveniently leaving out a few details, namely Lance temporarily joining Kurtz's team and taking part in the sacrifice of a water buffalo and his being allowed free reign of that compound after a few days of captivity and killing Kurtz anyway.

"How did you escape?" Webb asked.

"Kurtz's guys got careless, I managed to pick the lock on the cage and got my target." Willard replied.

"Well, Captain Willard, it appears you were successful in your mission. Congratulations." Webb replied.

More hollow words have never been spoken. Ben thought.

"Now, gentlemen, this brings the question of what to do about the two of you." Webb remarked, "I mean after all both of you were declared missing in action, presumed killed in 1969 and it is 34 years later."

"We had wondered about that." Ben replied.

"So what is gonna happen to us?" Lance added.

"Well, that's up to you, gentlemen. We could easily create new identities for the two of you and let you go out into the world." Webb replied.

"And what's the catch?" Ben replied.

"No catch." Webb said, "Just simply a fresh start for the both of you."

"I see," Willard replied suspiciously, "And do we have time to think this over?"

"You have forty-eight hours." Webb replied and walked out of the room.

* * *

"So was that a genuine offer or were you blowing smoke up their asses?" Gibbs replied as Webb walked into the next room.

"Contrary to popular belief, Agent Gibbs, the CIA is not in the business of simply using and discarding people." Webb replied.

"And burned agents around the world are just a happy coincidence?" Gibbs replied.

"You never know if people you do something for might well want to assist you in the future." Webb countered.

"You're using them as possible sources or even as agents." Gibbs replied.

"Hey, there are no real records of those two after 1969…" Webb began.

"Absolutely not." Gibbs replied, "Those men went through hell and back for their country and you're wanting to try and use them as deniable operatives?"

"Technically we could. After all neither Benjamin Willard or Lance Johnson really has any known living relatives in this time, or at least any we know of." Webb replied, "After all Willard's ex-wife died in a car accident in 1988 and his parents died in 2000 and 2001 respectively. Johnson never married and his parents and he weren't especially close."

"You do that and you won't get any of Kurtz's manifesto." Gibbs replied.

"Why would we want a thirty-four year old manifesto from a mad man?" Webb asked.

"I'm sure you would want to control that information about Kurtz," Gibbs replied, "Think of it, that's potentially explosive, a US Army Colonel goes rogue and wages his own war by his own rules, in some ways more effectively than the US military in the jungles of Cambodia. That could potentially not be the Agency's finest hour and…"

"What do you want, Gibbs?" Webb asked.

"Nothing much, just honor your deal, no strings attached. Help these two men start lives, productive lives, in this century and you'll have all of Kurtz's papers and tapes to lock away as you please." Gibbs replied.

Webb thought the matter over and sighed, "Alright, anything else Gibbs?"

"One more thing. One of my agents has a friend that may well be connected to Willard, a DIA case officer by the name of Aaron Dale. I'd like to request he be read in." Gibbs replied, meaning he wanted Aaron to know about Willard.

"Why is that?" Webb asked.

"If Agent Todd's hunch is right then Aaron Dale may well be related to Benjamin Willard." Gibbs replied.

"Alright. Let Agent Todd confirm that first before we read Dale in." Webb replied.

* * *

Aaron Dale walked out of the elevator, an NCIS visitor's badge clipped to his shirt. Kate was waiting for him at the elevator as he walked into the bullpen.

"Kate, what is this all about?" Aaron began as he saw his old friend.

"I'll explain later." Kate replied, "I just have a few more questions for you."

Aaron replied, "Ok. But first off, I couldn't resist and went into work to look up that airstrike you were asking about. There was one in vicinity of the Nung River, about 75 kilometers inside Cambodia in 1969. The target was the ruins of an ancient Khemer temple. It raised some uproar in the State Department."

"Thanks for the information, Aaron." Kate replied, "I just have a few questions. Pull up a chair at my desk and we'll talk."

Aaron walked over to Kate's desk, grabbing hold of a nearby chair and putting it by Kate's desk and said, "Ok, Kate, what's this all about?"

"Aaron, first off, trust me, I'll explain later." Kate replied, "Do you remember your father at all?"

Taken aback Aaron replied, "Yeah, he's a retired firefighter in Helena, Montana where I grew up. He was the Fire Marshall of the city till he retired two years ago. Why?"

"Aaron, I know you're probably going to hate this, but I'm not talking about your step-father." Kate replied.

"Kate, my biological father walked out of my life when I was a year old." Aaron replied, "I barely remember him, if not for my mom."

"What about your mom?" Kate asked gently.

"Mom died in a car accident in 1988 when I was graduating from undergrad." Aaron replied, "Caitlin, why are you brining all of this up? What does this have to do with the Vietnam War era black ops mission you asked me about, albeit indirectly?"

Kate replied, "This is getting to the I am about to explain this part."

Aaron's eyes narrowed, "Kate, I tried looking up my biological father when I was in college, you know what I found? He was listed as missing in action, presumed killed in 1969."

"I know." Kate replied, "would you be willing to submit a blood sample?"

"You guys found him didn't you?" Aaron replied and then nodded, "If nothing else it'll help me close that chapter of my life."

Kate stood up and motioned Aaron to head to the lab where Abby and Ducky waited to take the blood sample for Abby's DNA test.

As they waited Aaron asked, "I didn't know NCIS was in the business of identifying remains of missing service members. I thought that was the Joint Personnel Recovery Center's job."

"We're not." Kate replied, "And not usually."

"It's a match," Abby said, "I'll let Gibbs know."

"Ok, Caitlin, where did you get my biological father's blood? Is he guilty of a crime?" Aaron replied.

"No, but let me explain now." Kate began, handing Aaron some paperwork, a government nondisclosure agreement.

Aaron's forehead scrunched as he read the document and signed the document.

"Yesterday we found a Navy patrol boat washed up on the bank of the Anacostia River." Kate began, walking Aaron through the events of the past day and a half.

"You realize this sounds like something fresh out of a science fiction novel, right?" Aaron said, "If it wasn't for that blood sample I wouldn't believe you at all and..."

The door to Abby's lab opened and Gibbs said, "Through here."

Aaron would look up from the documents in his hands to look into a more gaunt and somewhat haggard and careworn version of himself. He knew that face from very early memories and a few old photographs his mother had left him. None other than his biological father, Captain Benjamin L. Willard, US Army.

"Hello, Aaron..." Willard began.

* * *

Earlier Gibbs stood outside of Abby's lab with Ben Willard, "My team are confirming the information now, but I think we located your son, Aaron."

"Thank you, Gibbs." Willard replied with a tired sigh, he had only recently heard that news that Rachel had died in a car accident in 1988, "I don't know what to say."

"You could always start with hello." Gibbs replied.

"I haven't seen him in 34 years. I don't even know if he remembers me." Ben replied, "I still remember him, a year old, sitting on the bed when I said yes to a divorce and left for Vietnam tour number three two weeks later."

"Well, you are getting a chance at some closure, be grateful for that." Gibbs said quietly before opening the door and saying, "Through here."

Ben would find himself looking at someone who could easily pass as a direct clone, though the other man stood two inches taller and was broader shouldered.

Drawing in a deep breath Ben began, "Hello Aaron..."

He was barely conscious of Kate saying, softly to Aaron, "Aaron, this is your father..."

He did hear Aaron's response, directed at both of them, "I have a Dad, Caitlin. This guy just donated half his genetic material to create me thirty-six years ago."

"Aaron, son..." Ben began.

"Don't call me that. You gave that up thirty-five years ago when you walked out the front door to go to Vietnam for a third time." Aaron snapped back.

"I'll be first to say I deserved that." Ben replied, "I wasn't the best father to you..."

"For the fact that you helped conceive me, thanks. But I have a real Dad." Aaron replied, brusquely adding, "One who didn't walk away from Mom and me."

"Aaron, damn it, will you listen to me, I do not want to replace your step-dad..." Ben replied.

"Dad." Aaron corrected.

"Point made, Aaron..." Ben replied, before Aaron cut him off.

"Would you have even cared if you were around when Mom died in that accident in 1988?" Aaron replied.

"Aaron, I wasn't in the best place when I came back from Vietnam the second time, when me and your mother barely spoke." Ben replied, "And you're damned right I would've cared. If I had made it home after tour number three I would have tried to find you guys again."

Aaron sighed deeply. All his life he had only the barest memories of this man, his mother had mentioned him, albeit sadly anytime the subject came up, simply saying he never came home from Southeast Asia. His own search at nineteen had simply lead to five simple words, Missing in Action, Presumed Killed.

After what felt like hour-long seconds Aaron spoke, softly, "Mom didn't bear any hate towards you, only sadness that she could never reach you after you came back from Vietnam the second time. She told me you just seemed to drift further away after each tour."

"I know I did, I hardlysaid a word to your mother until I said yes to a divorce when you were still in diapers." Ben replied, "I am all alone in this new and strange time, you're one of the only people from then that I know is even alive and I know that it's too late to try and build a father and son relationship. But I'd still like to at least be part of your life, if you'll let me."

Aaron blinked his own eyes hard, remembering again times he had asked his mother about Ben. How she used to always change the subject when he was younger, and when he was a teenager she had finally told him how Ben simply hadn't returned from Southeast Asia. How emotions over the past thirty-five years had run from anger, to sorrow, to pity.

"Alright." Aaron said, "For Mom's sake. She wouldn't have wanted bitterness to be between us."

"It's good to see you again Aaron." Ben said, first shaking hands with and then embracing his long estranged son.

Aaron returned his long lost father's embrace before saying, "So what's next?"

"That's still being worked right now. But if it will be allowed I would like to join NCIS." Ben began after disentangling himself from the hug he shared with his son.

"It's not as simple as filling out a job application." Gibbs said, "There's training you have to undergo."

"Then I'll go through it." Ben replied.

"Why? What's in your head that makes you want to do this?" Gibbs replied.

"You guys did a lot for us, a lot that I think you didn't have to do, when you found us the riverbank." Ben replied, "Besides it's not like I can go and rejoin the army, even if I wanted to."

"True." Gibbs replied, "Well, if you make it through FLETC I expect to see you here as a Probationary Agent, or semi-affectionately/semi-derisively called probies."

"Well that term can't be nearly as derisive as FNG was in my day." Ben replied, "I obviously won't say what that stood for, as there are ladies present."

Kate smiled slightly and said, "And that I appreciate."

"Hey, I was raised in the 40s and 50s." Ben quipped.

* * *

NCIS, Washington Navy Yard,  
0915, 28 October 2003  
Washington, D.C.  
United States

"Take care of yourself, buddy." Ben said, shaking Lance's hand.

"You too." Lance said, "Thanks for saving my life out there. Keep in touch?"

"You got it, pal." Ben replied as he held up a cell phone and stuck it back into his pocket, "So what have you got planned?"

Lance pointed to the three year old used station wagon he had bought recently with the small bit of seed money Webb had provided the two men, enough to get started in this century. Strapped atop it was Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore's old surfboard and the water skis.

"I just wanna find the coast again and coast, I saw too much out there, bro, way too much. I want to get to the sea again and let the waves wash me clean." Lance replied.

"We both did, Lance, we both did." Ben replied. After shaking hands with his old comrade he headed over to where Gibbs, Kate, DiNozzo, McGee, Abby and Ducky were standing.

"Again, I can't thank you guys enough." Ben said, "I hope to be back here in sixty days or so, having made it through FLETC. It would be an honor to work with you guys after what you did for us."

"Kiss ass." DiNozzo said.

Thwack! Gibbs' hand landed with a smack on the back of his head.

"Ow." DiNozzo grumbled.

"Hope to see a new probie back here in sixty days." Gibbs said, shaking hands with Ben.

"I'll be here." Ben replied.

"Good luck at FLETC." Kate said.

"Thanks, Kate." Ben replied with a smile.

"Best of luck to you," Tony added, "Hopefully I'll be calling you Probie Orange by the time you get back."

"I'll make it, and either way you're still a pretty boy." Ben remarked.

"And you are officially Probie Orange." Tony replied.

"Benjamin," Ducky replied, "Best of luck to you at FLETC."

"Thanks, Ducky." Ben replied.

"We all pooled funds and thought that you might find these of use." Ducky said, handing a large Barnes and Noble plastic bag to Ben.

Ben opened it and noticed the bag contained many For Dummies guides. "Thanks."

"We thought it would be some good off duty reading for you if official training materials get too dry." Ducky replied.

"Good luck, Ben." McGee replied, and then handed Ben a small plastic spiral bound book,"Oh, you'll need this."

"A Quick and Easy Reference Guide for the 21st Century by Timothy McGee and Abby Sciuto." Ben flipped through it and smiled, noticing the written introduction that Abby and McGee wrote, and that the inner cover had the lyrics to We Didn't Start the Fire.

"Kate's idea." Abby remarked before giving Ben one of her signature bear hugs, "Good luck, Ben."

"Thanks Abby." Ben replied, "I'll be sure to keep this handy, as handily as Kate keeps her PTA."

"That's PDA." Kate corrected with a grin.

Ben disentangled himself from Abby's hug and waved as he walked over to the forest green Jeep Wrangler with the tan brown hard top that he had put the down payment on and started the vehicle.

As he pulled out of the NCIS parking lot, passing Lance as he headed towards the DC Beltway, towards I95 South, Ben Willard thought aloud about the events of the last few days.

"It was a real choice mission, and after it was over I'd never want another." Ben began, "But now I've found a place I'd like to try and fit in, in this strange new time. I hope to God I don't screw this up."

* * *

FINIS


End file.
